Control
by RedCyanide
Summary: He hated to admit he had become just a toy...Ishida/Ichigo


**This is my first Bleach story. I want to apologize for any possible mistakes; English is not my first language.**

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The minutes were stretching awfully, painfully until they seemed to reach the size of millenniums, making the young Quincy go insane. His leg was shaking ceaselessly, sign of an immense impatience and indignation. He was waiting for _him _to say something, but the orange-haired teen was calmly pouring some hot coffee into a mug, without saying a word. The silence was pressing hardly against the archer's ears and chest, his heart beating faster than its normal rate.

All these months he had been waiting for Ichigo to say something. Say something about themselves. What were they? For Ichigo, everything was physical. All he was doing was thinking about that fucked up shit. In a way that made Ishida think he was being just a toy.

A poor tool designed just to fulfill the desires of the user. A single look from those lusty brown eyes was stripping him of all his pride, his beloved pride, and he was kneeling in front of the Shinigami, ready to do everything he wanted him to do, just for him.

Because he loved him. Deep inside, Ishida was caring madly for the orange-haired teenager, but the indifference of the Shinigami was hurting him so much, so much that he wanted to cry until he had no tears left.

Uryuu cleared his throat, trying to catch Ichigo's attention. The silence was already starting to become awkward, and somebody had to break it. Too bad Ishida was too afraid to take this step.

Kurosaki raised his head to look kindly, and desirably, at the young Quincy; a look that made Ishida shudder slightly. It's not like he haven't seen that look on Ichigo's face before. The fact that it was unchanged sent chills down his spine.

"Do you want something?" Uryuu expected that question, but he never thought about an answer. An answer to make Kurosaki understand that they must have an important discussion. Ichigo saw the hesitance and a smile blossomed in the corner of his full lips. Ishida had always been so shy.

Uryuu startled when he felt the soft texture of Ichigo's lips being pressed against his ones. "Kurosaki…" he murmured, trying, a bit hesitant, that's right, to push him away. Ichigo silenced him, deepening the kiss. Ishida was so cute when he was playing the innocent. His shameless tongue lingered above Uryuu's bottom lip, the archer automatically open his mouth. Breaking the barrier of his lips and teeth, Ichigo explored the insides of Ishida's mouth, inch by inch.

Ishida leaned harder into the backrest, which creaked faintly. Thank goodness the chair was solid enough to sustain the weight of the two bodies pressed together, yanking at each other wildly.

Ishida felt a wave of guilt flood his brain when Ichigo's fingers undid the buttons of his white shirt. He was being controlled again and he couldn't do anything but conform. He felt his tie being ripped from his neck and watched it land on a counter. The shirt slipped off his shoulders and he flinched when he felt the cold air hit his bare skin. Something wet pressed against his neck and Uryuu let himself get devoured by the hungry mouth of Ichigo. He was already tired, sick of this.

"Take off my shirt," came the order and Ishida stretched his hand mechanically to undo the buttons - oh, my God, how he hated them! - of Ichigo's shirt. He was like a lever operated by a force. The shirt slipped down at the legs of the chair like a small puddle of milk on the tiles. Ishida gasped when the side of Ichigo's palm brushed against his nipple. His hands were calloused from handling the Zanpakuto, from fighting Hollows every single day. Ichigo smirked before he took the nipple between his lips, sucking it. Uryuu's head dropped backwards, banging into the wooden backrest. Pain was throbbing in the back of his head, but the pleasure was overwhelming it. It was quite odd how cold he was feeling when his shirt had been removed and how hot he was now, like somebody had lit a fire into the room.

Unwillingly, Ishida wrapped his slender arms around Ichigo's back. He was feeling ashamed that he was being manipulated like that, but he was actually beginning to get accustomed with this. Ichigo was a drug. His favorite drug.

The Shinigami's lips traced his abdomen, leaving wet, glistering tracks on the pale skin. The chair slipped a bit on the sandstone when Ichigo jabbed his hips into Ishida's, the two erections brushing together through the rough material of their jeans. A small moan escaped Uryuu's throat, a single drop of sweat rolling down his forehead. He was guilty; guilty for accepting this, but was there a way to ignore it?

Ichigo smirked when Uryuu's hand tightened around his muscled arm, his rectangular glasses shining. His fingers reached for the cold glasses and removed them, looking straight into Ishida's indigo eyes.

"Do you want me?"

It was the same question, again and again. It didn't matter if the answer was yes or no, it was going to happen anyway. And Ishida was nodding foolishly, unable to say no.

Ichigo kissed the archer's forehead lightly as his fingers reached for the waistband of his jeans. Ishida closed his eyes as the zipper was being pulled down and Ichigo's hand slipped inside his boxers. The tips of his fingers pinched at the sensitive skin, a sharp, half angry, half pleasured hiss escaping the archer's mouth. Shivers like electric current were flooding his body, aching with the need for being touched.

He felt Ichigo's lips on the tip of his cock and he couldn't suppress a chuckle. It slowly slipped inside the Shinigami's mouth, who twirled his tongue around it, watching satisfied the archer getting more and more sweaty. White, shinning stars were dancing in front of the Quincy's eyes, his brain overwhelmed by a mist of dizziness. His head was spinning out of control.

"Ahh, Ichigo!" The orange-haired boy smirked against the tip of Ishida's dick. The sound of his name being moaned by the slim archer was making him hot from head to toe. The image of that sweaty abdomen arch in pleasure was making him drool. He ran a finger along Uryuu's erection, smirking at the pleading face he was making. He loved to see Ishida so…amenable.

He pushed himself off him, mentally giggling at the disappointed look the Quincy threw him. _'Don't worry, Uryuu. I'll never disappoint you.'_ Kurosaki unzipped his jeans, slowly slipping them off, showing his long, slender legs. Ishida swallowed at the bulge on Ichigo's boxers. How could that thin fabric hold all the man Ichigo was?

"Stand up and turn around." Again, Uryuu found himself obeying the Shinigami. Ichigo pushed; or rather shoved; the chair away. It slid across the room, hitting a counter and toppling. Ishida didn't even flinch at the sound made by the falling chair. He was wondering when it would stop, and how it would stop. Would it stop again without a word? Without a word to prove that they actually care about each other.

Ichigo licked his lips while watching the flawless body of the archer. He loved those long, slender legs, that round, cute ass, that flat abdomen and chest and those elegant fingers. He loved everything about that little body, as well as ravaging it. His eyes narrowed at the thoughts.

He slipped off his boxers and opened a drawer, taking a tube of lube. He squeezed some into his hand and ran his palm along his cock. A hiss escaped his throat.

Every fiber of hair on Uryuu's body stood straight at the sound of Ichigo hissing. He heard him move behind him and bit his lip. He felt his arm run across his abdomen, gently caressing it and wrapping around his waist. A hand ran through his ink hair, grabbing a fistful. Ishida gasped when the Shinigami pulled his head backwards until the back of his head as pressed against Ichigo's cheek.

"Prepare yourself." He whispered and smirked when he felt the Quincy shiver. That was going to be fun.

Ishida clenched his teeth, but nothing could stop the scream that erupted from his mouth when Ichigo's cock penetrated his ass roughly. He caught hold of a counter to keep himself from smashing into it as the orange-haired jabbed himself in him, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room. His hips moving along with the slightly awkward rhythm, Ishida closed his eyes tightly, unable to keep himself from moaning.

"Argh…I-Ichigo…mmmm." he cursed himself for being so needy, so responsive. He didn't want to give Ichigo the satisfaction of controlling him, but he couldn't do that. That because Ichigo indeed was controlling him.

"Uhhh. That's it, Uryuu. Scream…" Ichigo purred, pounding ceaselessly into the teen. The Quincy blushed slightly at Ichigo's tone. _'No…'_ he bit his lip. _'I'm not gonna…'_

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" the scream reached a high intensity when Ichigo hit his prostate over and over again. He tried to rip himself away from the Shinigami, but his arm was wrapped tightly around his waist and his hand was still in his hair. Pleasure mixed with pain was twisting inside Ishida's body, his breath coming out in heavy gasps. A part of him wanted Ichigo to stop, but another part of him wanted this to last forever, to never come to an end.

But the rhythm was slowing down, becoming irregular. The two gasps mixed together when both of the boys came, spilling their semen inside Uryuu and on the counters. Ishida moaned softly as his knees gave up and collapsed into Ichigo's arms. He felt the strong hands caught his forearms and Kurosaki's head rested on his shoulder, sighing.

Ishida let his eyelids drop. He was finally going to break the ice.

"Ichigo, do you care about me?"

"Of course I do."

But the grip on his forearms became tighter and tighter.

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**I hope you like it!**

**Reviews are welcome!**


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